against the walls, against your rules, your skin
by possibilist
Summary: Post 3x18, Rachel and Quinn growing, healing, learning. Possible but, tbh, probs not prom spoilers. Faberry. Always. yep yep, my weekly headcanon reparations.


summary: post 3x18, rachel and quinn growing, healing, learning. possible (but, tbh, probs not) prom spoilers. faberry. always. (yep yep, my weekly headcanon reparations.)

an (1): apart from being degrading towards—not only women—mankind in general, quinn wasn't even in this ep. so i still fixed everything. let the anger go. :) review, enjoy. go outside and happy may!

an (2): title is from passion pit's "sleepyhead". quote is from beirut's "east harlem". references from the mindblowingly perfectchuck palahniuk. listen to feist's "get it wrong, get it right" if you'd like.]]

* * *

against the walls (against your rules, against your skin)

.

_sound is the colour i know_

_sound is what keeps me looking for your eyes_

_sound of your breath in the cold_

_sound will bring me home again_

…

one. _most times, it's just a lot easier not to let the world know what's wrong _

_._

Quinn's felt sore before. It's not like she hasn't had a child, or gotten hurt dancing or doing gymnastics, and that's not even considering that she was, just months ago, in an accident so severe she'd been paralyzed.

But it's at exactly 3:31 am Monday morning that she wakes up drenched in sweat in the thick dark of the guest bedroom, which is serving as her current room, and literally thinks she's about to _die_.

Because her chest _aches_. She'd had lung surgery—a thoracotomy, in fact—so pain around the incision along her ribs and back to her shoulder blade isn't anything new. But this isn't a dull, pulling thing that is distracting but bearable. This is sharp. This is daggers.

This is Juliet.

So she tries to call for Judy, because things are starting to get blurry and the stabbing with each breath is getting worse. Quinn has little concept of time anymore, and everything is happening so fast and slowly and horrifyingly that when Judy's concerned face is somehow floating above her, she doesn't think to question it.

Judy says some things, calmly but with an edge to her voice that Quinn can pick out even now, but Quinn has no idea how to answer besides, "It _hurts_, Mom."

Judy calls 911, and time doesn't exist in the spaces between when the paramedics arrive, get Quinn onto a stretcher, and then into the loud, rattly ambulance. They start an IV and finally give her some pain medicine, and Judy holds her hand the entire time, so she's not really scared.

Not anymore, at least.

.

When she wakes up, Quinn has a plastic oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. It's sunny outside, and it's still Monday, or so the whiteboard to her left tells her. It's not the same hospital room she'd been in before, but it may as well be, because nothing's different except for the window is on the opposite side of the room, and—she's informed by the blue dry-erase marker—her nurse's name today is Hannah instead of Brandy.

Judy's sitting by her left side this time, and she's reading _People _from about seven months ago, and when Quinn tries to sit up a little, Judy notices that Quinn's awake.

"Hey," Quinn says, and it's weak and raspy through the mask.

"Hi," Judy says. She smiles just a little, putting down the magazine and leaning towards Quinn.

"What happened?"

Judy's smile disappears and then she says, "You have pneumonia. Viral, I think they said."

Quinn sinks back against the pillows a little, closing her eyes. It's frustrating and she wants to cry, even though her chest hurts much less now.

"From the flu," Judy continues, brushing her fingers through Quinn's hair. "And because of your recent surgery, you're more prone to infections, and—"

"—I get it," Quinn snaps, and Judy's hand stills against the side of Quinn's head. "I'm sorry," Quinn whispers.

Judy's hand resumes its comforting strokes. "Oh, Quinnie. You have nothing to be sorry for."

.

Quinn goes home on Tuesday morning, although she has to spend that week—_doctor's orders_—home from school. Brittany and Santana come by on Wednesday afternoon, and they make sure she's feeling better since Monday, and then they convince Judy to let them make chocolate chip cookies.

They're in the kitchen and Quinn's mostly just eating the cookie dough instead of helping when Santana starts talking about Rachel's audition tomorrow.

Quinn can't go because she's sick, and she stares at her hands—there are track marks from the IV in her right one—before Brittany notices and hugs Quinn gently, kissing the top of her head.

"Lord Tubbington can't go either, Quinn, but he still loves Rachel," she says, and Santana jauntily smiles as she takes the KitchenAid beater from Quinn's hand.

Then they get subdued and serious, and they tell Quinn about Puck's dad and Coach Beiste.

Both of them know about Russell, and they don't ask Quinn to talk about it. Instead they pour three glasses of milk when the oven starts beeping, and they eat their cookies, laughing again about something Brittany says.

As they leave later that evening with goodbye hugs, Quinn tells them, "You should sing 'Shake It Out' by Florence + the Machine. To Beiste."

Santana nods, and Brittany squeezes Quinn's shoulder.

.

Quinn's napping on Friday night when she hears the doorbell wakes her up. Judy answers and Quinn hears Rachel, and she immediately tries to straighten her hair and t-shirt from her haphazard position on the couch. She has on grey sweatpants and a white Janelle Monae t-shirt, and she fumbles around on the side table for her glasses. Judy comes into the living room and says, "Rachel's here and—"

"—She can come," Quinn says quickly.

Judy nods and then a few seconds later Rachel walks into the room. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she's wearing jeans, and Quinn immediately knows why Rachel hasn't returned her few texts asking about the NYADA audition.

"Rach," Quinn whispers, and Rachel hovers hesitantly for a few seconds before sitting next to Quinn on the couch and pressing her damp cheek to Quinn's chest as Quinn wraps strong arms around Rachel's back.

Rachel cries and cries, and Quinn just murmurs soft reassurances—she's gotten used to hearing them over the past few months, and for once it feels good to be the one offering comfort—and places little kisses on Rachel's hairline.

Rachel straightens up after sixteen minutes—it's not like Quinn minded the contact, but the clock was right in front of her—and sniffles, wiping her eye and looking embarrassedly at the black stain of mascara against Quinn's white shirt. "God," Rachel says. "I should be the one—you shouldn't—I—"

"—You have every right to feel sad, Rachel," Quinn says softly.

"But you're here and you're okay, right? And I just messed up one audition but you're—" Rachel flails her hands— "_paralyzed_and Santana said you have pneumonia and—"

Quinn smiles a little and takes Rachel's hand. "Have you ever read _Perks of Being a Wallflower_?"

Rachel shakes her head.

"Well," Quinn continues, "it's an awesome book. And they talk about The Smiths. But besides that, they talk about perspective."

Quinn puts an arm around Rachel's shoulders.

"And, it's like, no matter what someone else is going through, stuff that hurts you still matters. Like, this is a lot for you, Rach, and nothing that's going on with me changes that. Don't feel guilty for wanting things."

Quinn squeezes Rachel tighter, and, even though it hurts her still painful chest, it's something Quinn wouldn't trade for the world.

"They say, 'She was sad, though, but a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.'"

"You remember that from the book?"

Quinn remembers it because it reminded her of herself. "Yeah."

Rachel's quiet, and she takes a few deep breaths, and then she sits up. "You're amazing."

Quinn feels herself flush and looks down. "I'm just a decent reader."

Rachel shakes her head. "No. You really are amazing."

"So are you," Quinn says. "No matter what anyone else has to say about it. I believe in you."

Rachel bites her bottom lip and then smiles, a real smile, the kind that makes Quinn's heart beat a little faster. "I like when you wear glasses. And you're very cute after you wake up, too."

Quinn laughs softly, and Rachel ruffles Quinn's messy hair.

…

two. _no, it's not fair, but what makes earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it should feel like heaven. earth is earth. _

.

For some reason Quinn honestly cannot comprehend, Finn wants to run for Prom King with _her _as his running mate. She doesn't agree, of course, but that doesn't prevent the rumours from spreading around school.

And then, for some reason Quinn _really _cannot ever begin to understand, Finn yells at her at Prom to stand up.

And, yes, physical therapy had been going _better_. Which means that her legs were moving. A little. Like, tiny, minuscule little things.

But standing? _Walking? _Those things are, like, the holy grail of physical therapy—and sure, it's fun when Quinn quotes Monte Python and her physical therapist Jeff laughs—but she's nowhere near that yet. Quinn and Jeff get excited when she gets her left leg to move four inches off the table. In the pool, it's a victory when she doesn't nearly drown herself trying to keep her head above water without a kick-board.

So Sue starts yelling at Finn, and Quinn's never been more thankful. She wheels from the gym as quickly as possible and then finds herself in the bathroom. It's not surprising when Rachel comes in about thirty seconds later, and neither of them really say anything.

Quinn doesn't cry, and they can't even look at each other, because, God, Finn's an _ass_.

Rachel squeezes Quinn's shoulder tentatively and then Quinn wheels away.

She wins Prom Queen. Finn wins Prom King.

Quinn gives the crown to Rachel without a word and gets Joe to give her a ride home.

She cries herself to sleep.

.

Two days later, Kurt tells Mercedes who tells Santana who tells Quinn that Rachel broke up with Finn.

She walks at physical therapy that day. Not really _walks_, but she takes a pained, tiny step with Jeff—and a set of parallel bars—helping her. It's exhausting.

Judy, unfortunately, is at work, and Quinn's stopped letting Joe come, so she's by herself.

When Rachel texts her later that evening, Quinn stares at the backlight of her phone in the dark for a few minutes before shutting it off.

.

On Thursday, Rachel stops Quinn—literally, grabs the handles of Quinn's chair and just holds on—while Quinn's on her way to lunch.

"Can we talk?"

Quinn nods, and Rachel wheels Quinn to an empty classroom. She sits down across from Quinn, on the top of a desk. Her legs dangle and she swings them back and forth a little.

"I'm sorry for what Finn said. And the end of our relationship has nothing to do with you, but I still wanted to make reparations—"

It's her use of _reparations _that does it. "—It's okay," Quinn says.

"It's _not_," Rachel says.

Quinn shrugs. "I walked the other day."

Rachel stills entirely. "You did?"

"Well, I took a _step_. But, yeah."

And then Rachel claps and hops off the desk and kisses Quinn on the cheek as she hugs her.

"Rach?" Quinn asks. It breaks the spell and Quinn hates that, but it's necessary.

Rachel stands in front of Quinn.

"Want to see?"

"Are you sure—"

"Just, hold on tight, okay?"

Rachel nods and grips Quinn's wrists and then Quinn hoists herself up—her legs shake with the effort but she manages to stand somewhat upright—and Rachel grins, even if Quinn sways a little.

"Why did you break up with Finn?"

Rachel looks seriously—so seriously, and they're so close to each other—at Quinn and says, "Because of this."

…

three. _we have no scar to show for happiness. we learn so little from peace_

.

Changing at Nationals, Quinn can't get her dress clasp undone. Rachel rushes behind her and does it automatically—she's closest and they really are under a time crunch—and Quinn almost forgets her scars as she yanks her dress down before she hears Rachel gasp.

Quinn turns around quickly and fights the redness that always creeps its way onto her cheeks, and her heart plummets when she looks at Rachel's face. "Rachel," Quinn says. "_Rachel_."

Rachel composes herself and nods, goes back to straightening her hair before she steps on stage for her solo.

She's brilliant. Moving. _Breathtaking_.

The scout from NYADA is there, Quinn knows, and she also knows that all of the hurt she hears in Rachel's voice, all of the pain and fear and longing, they're permanent.

They'd heal, maybe, and they'd lessen and resolve a little, and they'd never stop Rachel.

But Quinn knows that they have the same scars, only Rachel's are invisible on her skin.

Rachel is powerful. Quinn is proud.

.

They get second. But Rachel—and everyone else, even Santana—doesn't seem to mind at all. Because perspective is there, after all, and Quinn is _dancing_.

.

Later that night, back in their hotel room, Quinn's getting dressed in the bathroom after a shower, pulling a slightly damp purple Little Boots t-shirt over her wet hair. She has on a pair of black Nike running shorts—so the fading scars on her left leg are visible—and she's about to wrap her hair up in the towel when someone knocks at the door.

When Quinn cracks it open, it's Rachel, which isn't surprising.

"Do you—didn't you already shower?" Quinn asks. "Did you leave something in here?"

Rachel shakes her head. She looks down, and Quinn senses Rachel's eyes against the red ropes of raised tissue on her thigh. Rachel meets Quinn's eyes and says, "Can I see them?"

Quinn takes a deep breath but then steps back into the bathroom, and Rachel follows. Quinn lifts the hem of her shirt over her head—and she's wearing a sports bra, and it shouldn't feel that intimate, but it does—and stands still.

Rachel takes two steps closer and Quinn closes her eyes, and then Rachel ghosts her fingers along the worst scar on Quinn's ribs. Quinn shivers and she can hear Rachel crying.

So she opens her eyes and looks at Rachel looking at _her_, and for the first time in months, for the first time _ever_, when Quinn says, "They're just scars," she actually means it.

…

four. _yes, terrible things happen, but sometimes those terrible things—they save you_

.

"It's strange," Quinn says, trying not to get too nervous when she looks at the crowd gathered for graduation. Her gown is hot and she's pretty sure her cap's sliding off, but she finds Rachel's proud smile and continues with her valedictorian speech. "All of these things that happened to me were terrifying at the time. Some of them are still scary. But every time I take a step, every time I hug my friends, every time I see my child, I just have to know that I'm here, and I'm alive. And that's a gift to me. I know it. That's what I've learned. And that's what I'm going to take with me. I'm determined to make the most of this fleeting time I've been given. And our roles in society will be exactly that: We are lucky, and we are flawed, and we are _intentioned_. So we should make those intentions good ones, and we should fight for them with all we have."

It's stupid to care about a standing ovation at a high school graduation in Lima, Ohio, Quinn thinks, but she can't help but feel happy at the notion.

It's a double entendre, too: They are standing because Quinn has managed to, again and again.

.

At 5:27 am three mornings after graduation, the doorbell rings frantically, and Quinn trips her way down the stairs and sends Judy back to bed—"I'm sure it's just Rachel," she sighs, and Judy laughs but concedes, walking back to her room—and then opens the front door.

Sure enough, it is Rachel, manic and bright eyed, waving a letter excitedly in Quinn's face. "It's from NYADA," she says, launching into a hug. "They saw me at Nationals and I got in."

Quinn tugs Rachel so tightly to her that she can't help but wonder how either of them are breathing.

They watch the sunrise that morning, and Rachel talks for the entire time about the outrageous price of New York coffee.

.

It's just Rachel and Quinn one morning in August, by the pool in Quinn's backyard.

"I—um, I'm gay," Quinn says, picking at a spot of grey lint on the pink of her towel. She refuses to meet Rachel's eyes.

But Rachel just takes Quinn's hand. "I kind of thought so," she admits.

Quinn looks up, and Rachel shrugs, then smiles.

"But, Quinn? It means so much that you told me," she says, then stands and helps Quinn up before shouting, "Cannon ball!" and flailing into the pool with a haphazard splash.

Quinn follows with a laugh, savoring the weightlessness of jumping above the water and the pounding of her heart when she submerges into the cool chlorine, her eyes closed.

When her lungs finally start to burn she kicks towards the surface, and taking a deep gulp of air feels pretty good too.

.

At the terminal, Quinn almost debates not getting on the train. Because maybe she's not ready. It's loud and Grand Central Station smells weird, but New York means Rachel.

But then Rachel just smiles and says, "You're going to love it. Plus I'll see you in like, six days, and I just know you'll have already made all of these friends because, really, who _wouldn't _love you, and—"

Quinn cuts her off with a hug, and then Rachel whispers, "Can I tell you something?"

"Haven't you been doing that for the past four years?"

Rachel laughs and they step back. They're so close, yet again, and Rachel stares at Quinn for a few seconds intently before her eyes start to flicker shut and then her lips are against Quinn's.

For as long as Quinn has imagined this moment, it does nothing to compare, and her palms immediately find themselves on the smooth skin of Rachel's cheeks, and she feels Rachel's fingers fisting in the back of her hair, tangling, weaving. Rachel tastes like rose lip salve and mint gum and residual coffee from breakfast, and it's the most enticing thing Quinn has ever experienced.

When they break after a few seconds, Rachel whispers, "I really don't want you dating anyone at Yale."

Quinn focuses on the breathing techniques her respiratory therapist taught her—because her lungs are _not _working—and says, "Does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

Rachel beams. "That's really not the proper way to ask a lady —and a future Broadway star—on a date."

Quinn fumbles in the front of her purse and then takes out a slip of paper, presenting it to Rachel. "It's a pass. For the train, this whole year."

Rachel stares at it.

"So, Rachel Barbra Berry, future Broadway star, will you do me the honor of meeting me in New Haven this weekend—and many after, if you wish—for the cheesiest, most romantic date ever?With me?" Quinn adds.

Rachel laughs and says, "If you insist."

Quinn smiles. They kiss and hug and then Quinn gets on the train. As it pulls out of the station, she looks back and sees Rachel, waving, the ticket still pressed firmly, gently, perfectly into her small hand.

* * *

references. (if you haven't read chuck palahniuk, you have not lived. and, no, i don't mean watching _fight club._)

.

title. "sleepyhead" by passion pit.  
quote. "east harlem" by beriut.  
one. _invisible monsters _by chuck palahniuk.  
two. _damned _by chuck palahniuk.  
three. _diary _by chuck palahniuk.  
four. _haunted _by chuck palahniuk.  
also, i mention janelle monae, little boots, and _the perks of being a wallflower _by steven chobsky. just, yeah.


End file.
